In Need of a Quack

I am a 14-year-old wreck. I am obese and eat way too much, play too many video games, stay up way past midnight, ditch classes and sleep with all sorts of people. I know its bad the lifestyle I lead, but it’s hard for me to stop. I went to my parents with my problems (well, except for the sex), and they pass it off as just a phase; but I think I need help!

Is it too late for me?

Spinning My wheels,
Spread Eagle, Wisconsin

My Dear Ms. Spinning,

I hope “injecting Sterno between my toes” is thankfully not in that litany of miss deeds because you don’t do it, rather than merely omitted because you just spaced out.

Your parents are right, however; it is just a phase. That is, if by phase they mean it will end in its own due time. Then yes, it’s a phase. And, it will end… on a slab in the county morgue!

But it’s not too late. By realizing you are wastrel tart and by admitting that raiding fridge is not a glandular problem… you can be saved. Though from what I can see this is a very tough case to which your standard psychobabble won’t cut mustard.

So I recommend you do what all troubled teens with asinine parents do, join a cult. Theres one near you just two towns west called the Union of the Celestial Wooden Duck. It began in 1977 with the launch of the Voyager Space probe. One of the scientists snuck a hunting decoy into the Golden Record compartment. On the duck he carved a bunch of random squiggles figuring it just had to read â€œPlease Return to Senderâ€ in some language somewhere out there. Now he and his followers wait for the glorious return of that decoy in the loving arms of an intergalactic woodwork lover.

But with their guidance I’m sure you’ll be able to shape up. A steady diet of Kool-Aid and rice will get you nice and trim; the no technology mandate will get the controller out of your hands; and the strictly enforced chastity dogma will beat the promiscuity out of you. You’ll be even be able to catch up on your school work what with their top-notch re-education program.

I would just bail out when the Grand Oaken Mallard breaks out his telescope and HAM radio.

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Disclaimer: Mr. Eccentric is crazy. Any information and/or advice dolled out by this manic should be taken not with a grain of salt, but a 20 lb block of Himalayan salt (doesn't need to be pink). In other words, Mr. Eccentric is for entertainment purposes only.